Calling On Angels
by Ramica
Summary: A song fic, missing the lyrics of course. Mike finds a young girl that needs his help, if he doesn't help her he know he may regret it. Complete


**Calling on Angels**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: **I deny any ownership of any adolescent transformed shadow warrior chelonians.

**Author's Note: **This story was inspired by a song I was thinking of the other day, due to the rules I have left the lyrics out. I will not mention the song until the end. Please note that this story does have a bit of 'religious' talk in it so those who do not care for such things, may wish to stop reading here, though I did my best to not get overboard, the song insisted on a bit of such talk. Thought it was fair warning. **Ramica.**

Sometimes staying underground, unable to see the light, or the passing of time got hard to take. Sure I had things to distract me at home, like my music, playing video games, watching television or annoying theheck out of my brothers, but being the free spirit that I was, I just hated to be confined; To have my wings clipped and be forever denied the light from above.

One of my favourite places, or things to do was to sometimes follow the sewers to a drainage pipe that exited right out into Central Park, there was a walking path that went over the top of the pipe and there was a grassy bank that dropped down to the pipe, so it was well hid in the shadows. But during certain times of the day, I could see the sunshine just a few feet away from the opening of the pipe. I could hear the birds singing, snips and bits of conversation as people passed by overhead, and when the park grass was cut, the smell of the grass was the sweetest most intoxicating scent that I knew.

I would stay in the shadows of the pipe, enjoying what I could of the world above, living vicariously to some extent, which meant I didn't see the need to live dangerously as my brother Raph often did. For me, it was just the peace, the solitude and the sense of almost belonging that thrilled me, brought me back time and again.

It was no wonder my feet now took me to what I felt was my special place, but as I neared my favourite spot, my highly attuned sense of hearing detected the sound of some one crying. I shrank back into the sewer shadows holding my breath, as I waited for the sound to drift away. Perhaps it was only the sound of some child who wanted to stay, just a little longer, at the park or perhaps felt they had earned an ice cream treat while their parent felt it wasn't necessary.

However the sound didn't fade. It remained fixed just ahead of me, I heard a long sniffing noise and a slight hiccup and had to smile a bit.

With a great deal of caution, something I am not always known for but am capable of when I so desire, I peeked around the corner of the pipe to see who was so close by.

Near the pipe opening, huddled a small black form that could only be a child cowered down in the shadows. I figured from the size that the child couldn't be all that old eight, maybe nine but not much older.

I furrowed my brow cocking my head as I watched the form that stayed just in the entrance of the pipe, crying and often wiping any tears or what have you on the sleeve of her coat. I had to wonder what in the world a child was doing _here_, instead of running around in the playground or having fun.

Perhaps someone or something had chased her, for I sensed fear in the form. Or maybe she was just lost.

I then had to consider if I ought to sneak back the way I had come, or if I dared, _perish the thought,_ reveal myself to the youngster as it was clear the youth was very upset about something.

Besides, this was a child, just one kid. Would breaking one of our strict rules be all that terrible?

No, I think my father would understand, after all he had taken pity on us and he had taught us about compassion, that it was not always the way of the ninja to be compassionate and yet to show empathy could have its own rewards.

Beyond that I wanted to help the child, if I could find some way of doing it without frightening her, I was almost sure that it was a young girl, away with my looks.

Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I smiled and in the friendliest voice I could manage I asked, " Hi there, what are you doing in here?"

The head shot up, she glanced around nervously, jumping slightly and causing a slight splash in a puddle of water that hadn't quite drained away.

It was a girl with a skinny frame, but I could see one arm didn't look right and she held it close to her chest.

" Hidin" she replied simply, " Who are you?"

" My name is Michelangelo," I told her.

" Mike Angel?" She asked suddenly her voice brightening a bit and she smiled, " Did Jesus send you to help me? Jesus must have heard me so he sent his angel cause he's too busy." She blurted out, " My Sunday teacher say that Jesus has special angels that watch over us."

I shook my head about to tell her she had it all wrong. I wasn't an angel I was quite sure my Master would fully agree with me on that count considering the amount of practical jokes and mischief making mayhem I got into as a child, not to mention what I did now. I had nothing to do with Jesus at all, though I knew enough about religion to know who she was talking about, when she said his name.

I shrugged though as I realized that maybe by convincing her I was an angel she would be more willing to talk to me, I knew I shouldn't encourage the child to talk to strangers but, I wasn't the sort of person who intended to harm or threaten the child. I decided then and there that I could be an angel for her, if that was what she wanted and wouldn't scare her so.

" Yeah, unfortunately he didn't have a chance to tell me everything, like what games you like to play or the things you like to do?"

" I like playing house and tea party and riding my bike, and reading, and swimming and drawing." She answered listing all the favourite things she could think of.

It was quite the long list and I had to laugh at the excitement she had in her voice as she spoke of the things she enjoyed doing.

" That is wonderful um…" I hesitated because I didn't know what her name was.

" Sharon" she jumped in with her name, " Sharon Callaway I live over in the apartments at…" she informed me of her home address.

Man this kid was a little, too free with information.

" So what is your problem Sharon, what is it that you need help with?" I inquired.

" I sent Jesus a note the other day about somethin' I saw that scared me. I let it go into the wind" She admitted, she turned her head narrowing her eyes as she stared into the darkness of the pipe. " Can I see you Mike Angel? I've never seen a real angel before."

" I may not be what you are expecting," I told her kindly, " I don't look much like a human and I can't let anyone else see me Sharon." I insisted.

Still I stepped from the shadows so she could see my shadowy form in the darkness of the pipe. I could see her hair hanging in her face, a round face, with lips that pursed together as her eyes widened just a bit but she gave a small nod of her head, as if a giant turtle was a quite acceptable form for an angel to take.

I leaned against the sewer pipe squatting down with my carapace against the concrete, keeping my distance but still only four or five feet away from each other. From here it was easy to see that her right arm was in a cast, it was the bulky cast that had thrown me off.

" So Sharon do you want to tell me what you saw that scared you?" I wondered.

Sharon gulped and trembled slightly as she glanced out the pipe at the grassy slope " Something that happened on the news" she murmured very quietly.

" Yes there is a great many things on the news that can be scary, too bad reporters don't tell the good stories they seem so few and far between." I smiled, " You know you might want to talk to your mom and dad about what you saw and let them know how it upsets you." I hinted, " Just like you shouldn't tell people things like where you live Sharon."

" I know not to talk to strangers Mr. Angel," she said in an exasperated way, " But you are an angel and Mr. Jesus sent you, so it's different" Sharon assured me. She then gave a violent shake of her head, " I can't talk though. It is a secret" She placed one finger up by her lips and whispered, "_Don't tell anybody."_

" Some secrets are good to keep Sharon like what you buy someone for a gift to show them that you care," I agreed, " Other secrets however are **not** good to keep. If you want my help I need to know what the secret is before I can aid you in any way." I explained, " So would you be willing to tell me your secret?"

She nodded her head and bit her lip " There was a story on the news" she began in a faltering voice, " About a mom and dad who hurt their little girl so bad she had to go to the hospital."

I recalled that story. The parents had been taken away a little too late, they were facing criminal charges for abuse. The neighbours, it seemed had often heard the child crying or showing up with certain injuries but they would explain it away to themselves, reassuring their own minds that it wasn't necessary to become involved.

On the night the child had been beaten, the screams had been so bad that it finally moved the neighbours to act. So far the little girl was still in the hospital fighting for her life and people everywhere were wondering how this could happen.

It happened because people didn't want to get involved they were too willing to turn a blind eye to what they saw, they didn't want to believe that some people did act this way, it happened for too many reasons and none of them were good or the right ones.

" My Sunday teacher says that she might die. That Jesus may stop the pain for her" Sharon caressed her cast with her left hand, " Then she can live with Jesus and be happy cause she won't have to hurt anymore. But the doctors might be able to help her too and that would be just as good." Sharon declared.

" That is a scary thing to see Sharon, it is frightening that adults would hurt children so, when they are supposed to love them and keep them safe from harm." I sympathised, " But you know Sharon not **all** people are like that."

" Oh I know that Mr Angel" Sharon confirmed bobbing her head up and down, " I think her mom and daddy didn't realize how big they are. Maybe they didn't know, when they get loud and angry their hands hurt more."

There was something in the way she said that, which caused my gut to twist and grow hard. I stood up and took a couple of small steps closer to her and saw old bruises on her arms and legs.

I know kids often play hard and rough, they fall down and they get hurt, they might even break a bone in some mishap or by doing something foolish, but somehow I was almost certain that those bruises came by other means. She had spoken with a wisdom well beyond her years, there was a truth, a deep sincerity in her words that made it hard to ignore. She could say that because she knew, because perhaps a part of her had reasoned it out.

" Mr Angel I don't think the parents mean to, they do love their children. It is just when they get angry they sometimes forget."

Her words made me feel so cold.

I did my best to keep my words calm as I inquired " Sharon can you tell me how you broke your arm?"

She sniffed and her body shook " I told Mr. Jesus I didn't know what to do" tears brimmed in her eyes quickly spilling over and running wet tracks down her cheek. " I told him not to tell…" she sobbed her body shaking.

" Sharon if someone is hurting you. It has to stop," I declared firmly.

" I don't want my parents to go away. Why did the parents be taken from the girl on the news, will that happen with me if people know?" She demanded as her face scrunched up in her pain, and sorrow.

" Sharon, Sometimes parents don't have to go away. Sometimes they just need a little help to get things under control so they don't hurt their children anymore" I explained, " There are times yes, when sometimes, it is felt, that it will be better to take the parents or the child away for a time, until the mom and dad can prove they are ready to raise the child without hurting them."

I gritted my teeth inwardly, I would love to get my hands on Sharon's father for hurting her. I was sure it had to be him, and that perhaps her mother was keeping it secret because she had learned long ago not to oppose her husband. That was just the sort of person that Raph loved to get his hands on.

" Mr. Angel I asked Mr. Jesus and now I am asking you. Please don't tell…" Sharon begged. " Please." She whimpered.

I couldn't believe my ears, she wanted me to protect the very one who was hurting her? She was acting far more of an adult for she was being the protector in the house.

" You won't tell my daddy, that my mommy did this to me right?" Sharon insisted, " She didn't mean to do it, she's awful sorry." Sharon assured me, " She told me to play in the park cause she wants to talk to daddy and she said I ought to tell daddy I fell off my bike." Sharon gasped giving into uncontrollable sobs. " My Sunday teacher said if you pray and if you ask Jesus he will help you. He was the only one I felt could help me that's why I pray and I sent him my note."

The mother, _her mother_ was the one I shut my eyes bowing my head unable to believe what I was hearing. I clenched my hands into tight fists feeling my nails dig into the heel of my hand.

I saw nothing wrong with discipline, Splinter had often punished us often, all right so Raph and I were disciplined far more frequently then Leo and Don, but still he had **never **crossed that line between discipline and abuse. He was harsh and firm, very strict but he had not done anything to any of us, that I could term as abusive.

It irked me that Sharon who by rights ought to be the one being protected would worry over her mother.

Still it was her mother and the only one she knew, perhaps as Sharon said her mom did love and care for her, just every once in awhile she got angry enough that she forgot what she was doing or how far she was taking it.

Sharon wiped a hand under her runny nose and took a few deep breaths " Mr. Angel you will help me right? My mom won't have to go away will she? I don't want my mom to go away!" Sharon begged, " She really, **really** didn't mean to."

I didn't know what to do to help her or make things right. Yet I was the only one who knew her secret.

I definitely didn't want her ending up like that little girl in the hospital fighting for her life because I knew I could prevent that with one anonymous phone call to authorities about what I knew. If she got hurt and **I** had done nothing then I would be accountable for her injuries and her suffering, because I could have done something to prevent it.

Some way or another I had to help, first off because even I knew angels watched out for children, and secondly because I knew I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to Sharon.

" Look Sharon, sometimes when Jesus answers prayers he says no, sometimes it is yes and sometimes maybe later. Just like when you ask your parents for things right? He can't give us everything." I told her, " I know you don't want your mom to go away, I know you love her very much, probably as much as she loves you. However she is sick and that sickness is what makes her hurt you, so she might have to go away for a little while just to get better." I explained, " I will try everything I can to see she stays at home but it is also even more important that she **stops** hurting you." I gave her a smile, " If your mom has to go away remember that it is for the best. Okay?"

" Okay Mr. Angel if that is what Mr. Jesus wants. I'd like my mom to be better too." Sharon admitted.

" You are very brave Sharon, now you best go home before you get into trouble, and I will be watching over you to make sure she doesn't hurt you." I promised.

…

I spent the rest of that day trying to figure out what I was going do before heading out into the night to the apartment building Sharon had told me happened to be hers, and then climbing up to her balcony to see if I could hear anything of importance.

I heard two voices one female and strained, the other male and slightly harsh.

" Sharon seems to be hurting herself quite a lot lately…"

" What is that suppose to mean George all kids go through clumsy phases it happens. I can't watch her every second of the day." Came the feminine protest.

" I know I'm not blaming you Mary."

" Well it sounds like it to me!" She fumed.

I heard her say something else and a response from George that I didn't quite hear, they must have moved elsewhere. Then I heard George stating he was going out to buy some cigarettes.

I waited until I was absolutely certain he was gone, I sort of followed and made sure who he was as he left the building not for long though, before I returned and entered the apartment sneaking up on Mary from behind, I grabbed her clamping a free hand over her mouth.

" Listen to me Mary, I don't want you to scream because I don't want you to frighten Sharon. But you and I **both **know how she broke her arm." I hissed as I spun her around.

Mary's eyes grew wide with fright and I felt the sharp intake of air on my hand.

" Look if you love your daughter, you will call the help line and confess to what you have done. You will also tell your husband the truth. Trust me I am going wait for his return and I **will** tell him. So you'll have some explaining to do when he comes back in that door." I ordered, " I don't want to hurt your family, but I can't let you hurt your daughter any longer. If I find out you have hurt her after this then **I **will personally make some phone calls. Understood?" I barked sharply while keeping my tone icy cold.

She nodded her head mutely and I nodded quite sure we had an understanding.

I went out the same way I had come in and I waited for a while and heard Mary crying before picking up the phone and talking from what I heard she was indeed making that call.  
I dropped down to the back alley to wait for George.

When I grabbed him as he snuffed out his smoke, taking the fellow so by surprise that he was ready to hand over his wallet and everything else.

I chuckled at him " You can keep those, I just want to tell you something…" I explained quickly what I knew doing it, as best as possible without revealing myself in any way. I finished and turned to make my escape when he called out to me.

" Who are you, how do you know this?"

I smiled " Your daughter called out for an angel to help her and I responded." I replied quite honestly, hoping that my intervention would now make her life easier. It was a good days work for an angel or for a ninja turtle named Michelangelo.

The End

**Author Note: **The song that inspired this story is called Dear Mr. Jesus, done by Powersource lyrics for it can be found on the web. It is a very sad and yet powerful song. I did my best to remain true to it, and do not wish to malign any mothers out there. **Ramica**


End file.
